Orange Cows
by TwelveOhSeven
Summary: Molly Greenwood, or Mo, a self-entitled, morally corrupt pyromaniac manages to earn her spot in a certain 'all boys' correction camp. There, she runs into something even more thrilling than the thought of burning someone's house down... can you guess what it is? Squid/OC
1. D Stands For Deluded

**Howdy! SO. A lot of things won't be scientifically accurate but I don't give a damn so let's get this show on the road! **

**Reviews = more chapters :] that's right. I'm negotiating. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Holes. I have one, but I don't own this in particular.**

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I felt my eyes go out of focus as I stared down at my abnormally large man-hands that were folded in my lap. The chipped yellow paint on my fingernails made my eyes blur slightly, but I couldn't force myself to break the contact.

I was on a bus. A non-air conditioned one, for that matter, which made the fact of me being on a bus even more sickening. Buses were for kids whose parents didn't have enough time to pick them up from school. But I guess that's why I was here, you could say.

This certain 'stupid smelly bus', in the words of Junie B. Jones, was headed toward the clean air city of Austin, Texas; the home of the Sunshine Cupcake Crew, a camp designed specifically for kids like me! It included arts and crafts, had a lake, and bore help from camp leaders that deal with kids who have "special needs"! Oh, you also got to learn about God, Jesus and the whole shebang!

Sike! Although, the Sunshine Cupcake Crew sounds a hell of a lot better than where I was actually going, which was Camp Green Lake, an amazingly boring correction center for kids who aren't exactly BFFs with the law. But at least there was a lake, right?

The bus was deserted, apart from the driver, a dude who looked like he should be in a Pitbull music video (who was also in possession of a beautiful muzzle loader rifle - woof) and yours truly. In an alternate dimension, I thought, I'd have already drugged the driver and would just be starting to seduce the guard, whereas then I would take his precious rifle and knock him out with it. Then I'd overtake the bus and we'd be on our way to Cali.

But also in that alternate dimension, I'd be a 25 year old Russian model named Svetlana, not on a bus and possibly being hand fed grapes while discussing old western movies with Johnny Depp, and maybe Leonardo di Caprio (and I'd totally be like, 'Where's your Oscar, Leo?' and he'd be like, 'I dunno', and then I'd pull it out of my red satin corset and be like, 'It's right here', all seductive-like. Then we'd bang. Multiple times.)

But me being me, with the name of Molly - which is not anything near Svetlana - I'm merely sitting here with my flattened out thighs that are getting glued to the seat with my own sweat.

"Hey man," I said rather obnoxiously to the guard. "Got any cigs?"

I don't smoke; actually, I think I'm even allergic to the fumes, but I was bored and I hadn't spoken a word since I left the house and I had all these thoughts building up and I was getting a hammering in my chest and I think if I don't say something now I'll spontaneously combust into a bunch of little non-Russian pieces.  
He acknowledged me, but he didn't say anything, which is possibly the most rudest thing you could do to a person like myself.

"That's okay, I'm trying to quit, too."

He grunted, probably amused.

"Hey!" I squealed, as if I just found the cure to cancer. "We should go to a support group together! I've been told it's easier when you have a buddy!"

I was now channeling my inner Nathan Young from Misfits. Not a hard thing to do considering I've seen every episode from seasons 1 and 2. It's a lot of fun, seeing as 'Trolling' is my middle name (along with many other things, including Margaret).

"Look, man," I started, feeling that familiar rush of emotions that I got on the night that got me on this bus in the first place. "I get it. You don't want to talk to me because you think I'm scum. I'm the peasant, you're the noble. I get it, I understand. But the least you could do is get me a goddamned cigarette."

He stared at me, not even twitching an eyebrow. He was good, I'll give him that.

"You done?" he asked. I nodded cheekily.

"Good. Now shut up."

I groaned. He sneered. It was rather exhilarating.

But what was even more exhilarating was the fact that the bus was now dodging a shitload of holes that were scattered all over the ground like ants. Really large and unnecessary ants that took up a lot of space that could be instead used as a nature reserve. Hmph.

"Fresh meat!" I heard someone yell faintly. It was hard to hear because there was a stupid bus blocking my every sense.

I craned my neck to get a better look out the window. There were trillions of guys, all wearing the same atrocious orange jumpsuits, with dirt-encrusted shovels to top it off.

Notice I said there were trillions of guys. Not a single freaking female in sight.

"Hey Cig-less," I looked back. "We seem to be lacking some X chromosomes in this shithole."

He threw my a sly smirk and I wanted to rip off his mustache and replace it with, I dunno, his willy or something.

"D'you hear me? Or is your lack of nicotine getting to your hearing?"

"I heard ya. There ain't no other girls."

My mouth fell open. "Are you kidding me? This is not what I signed up for!"

He merely shrugged and went back to politely ignoring me. I looked out the window again, my mouth still ajar. My nose crinkled in distaste and my mouth got dry. Now'd be a good time for me to start druggin'-and-seducin'.

The bus slowly went past a jumble of boys that were in front of a tent, all in a dysfunctional line; they were poking and jabbing at each other, but seemingly getting along. They were an array of shapes and sizes, colors and levels of loudness. I'd already picked out my favorite, the short guy with the fluffy hair. Although, he seemed to be the only one not grinning or comparing blister sizes. I'd have to do something about that.

As I continued to judge these orangutans in the few seconds of passing them, I accidentally locked eyes with one of them. He had big glasses and even bigger hair. Jesus Christ, no thanks.

Once the bus came to a full-out stop, Cig-less grabbed his gun and stood up, so I mirrored him, swinging my backpack onto my shoulder as I did so. We stepped off the bus, and I did my best not to pay any notice to the unGodly heat.

I was from Florida, so I was already about 50% used to it, but come on! What did God have against delinquents?

I felt the eye balls that belonged to the trillions of guys on me, trailing down from my hair all the way to my, yes, boobs.

I didn't say anything though, but I would have if it weren't for the tip of the gun poking my shoulder blade. I heard the word 'girl' ripple through the ocean of dudes, and 'chick' at least once or twice.

"Let's go." my trusty sidekick grunted, and I followed him into a nearby building.

Once we were through the doors, there was yet again, more mutterings of my gender type.

"Please boys, calm your erections." I said, inwardly grinning at my quirkiness.

"No talking." Cig-less said swiftly, so I nodded.

"You got it, Officer."

The air was musty and stale, reeking of cigarette smoke. Great, I thought, now I get to acquire rashes all over my body while simultaneously wiping sweat from my armpits.

"Hey, does sweat help cure rashes?" I asked crudely.

"Sit down, stop talking nonsense." And so I sat. I felt Cig-less lurking behind me. Probably trying to look down my shirt. I knew I shoulda seduced him.

"What's with the sunflower seeds, man?" Cig-less asked.

The dinosaur sat before me spat out a sunflower shell into a mason jar. "I quit smokin'," he mumbled half-heartedly while shuffling around some paper work.

"Hey, me too! Good job, man!" I turned to my sidekick. "See, it's not that hard."  
I leaned in to him and murmured, "I mean, if he can do it, then I'm sure you can, too."

Dinosaur cleared his throat, pretty loudly, too, I might add. He gave me a pointed look and went back to giving sex eyes to his file.

"Molly Greenwood," he eyed me. "Says here you suffer from pyromania."

I nodded, smiling sweetly. "Yes. I love me some fire." I chirped, mocking his heavy accent. Which was weird, because of all things that ended with 'mania' and just had to be associated with me, it had to be the one dealing with smoke.

He glowered, but continued. "Well, Miss Greenwood. My name is Mr. Sir."

My nose crinkled once again, but not in distaste like it did before. That was freaking awesome! The dude was lucky. Lucky, lucky dinosaur.

"Whenever you speak to me, you will call me by my name."

"You got it."

He gave me another look. "I don't want any wise-crackin' from you either, you got it missy?"

I nodded once, my eyebrows giving off a fake stern look.

He stood up, raised his eyebrow, as if expecting me to do something, and walked over to a mini fridge and opened it.

"Oh, er- yes, Mr. Sir." I said, adding a salute.

He nodded, mainly to himself, then turned back to the fridge to pull out two cokes. "Here," he grumbled and handed one to Cig-less. I eyed the exchange, not meaning to seem so obvious. Mr. Sir saw me staring.

"Ya thirsty, Miss Greenwood?"

"Nah, I've got plenty of saliva building up in the back of my throat. I think I'm good."

He stared at me, then gave a quick look to Cig-less that said, "There's no way I'm putting up with this bullshit".

"Well, good. Savor this moment," he said with a flourish. "'Cause once your spit runs out you'll be thirsty for the next eighteen months."

Cig-less popped open his coke from behind me, with extra sizzle to emphasize it. Thanks man, I thought sarcastically, I thought we were friends.

Mr. Sir grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds and gave me yet another stare down.  
"As you can prob'ly tell by now, this ain't no girl scout camp."

I nodded. "Yeah, what a bummer. I brought my sash and everything!"

He didn't even bother to look at me, and said "Come with me."

"Okay," I chirped, and stood up with backpack in hand. Out the door we went, and we were now walking throughout the camp. There were guys everywhere, scattered out doing aimless things. They reminded me of cows, the type that just walk around in a field doing nothing in particular. Big, orange cows.

Mr. Sir stopped and eyed his surroundings.

"D'ya see any guard towers, Miss Greenwood? Hmm?"

I shook my head. "Nah."

"That's 'cause there ain't any." He said. "Why d'ya think there ain't any guard towers, Miss Greenwood?" He asked, popping a few sunflower seeds in his mouth.

"Funding was cut short?" I guessed.

He spit out a shell. "No, Miss Greenwood. There ain't anywhere for you to run to." He said, answering his own question.

"You wanna run away? Go 'head, start runnin'. I won't stop ya."

"Eh, I'm not much of a run-"

"I'M WARNIN' YOU!"

I try to sustain my flinch as he shouted to some orange cow in a cabin near us. I watched him informatively as he subconciously put his hand on a pistol that was snug tight in a holster. He saw me watching him and grumbled to himself.

"Ah, don't worry. I won't waste a single bullet on you. This here's for yella-spotted lizards."

I nodded apprehensively. "Glad to know I'm not bullet-worthy."

Anyway. "Like, I said, I'm not much of a runner."

"Well amen to that, Miss Greenwood. Wanna know why?" He leaned in real close and I could smell a mixture of salt and cigarette. "Cause we've got the only water for a hundred miles." He gestered wildly.  
"Our own little oasis." He made a petite circle with his fingers. I wondered if he knew he looked like a loon. "You wanna run away? Them buzzards will pick ya clean by the end of the third day." And he started walking again.

I didn't miss a beat, walking quickly so I could keep up.

We walked into another building, one that wasn't any less hot than the actual outside. I heard a "Hi, Mr. Sir" from some random orange cow in the corner of the room and I did my best to ignore his presence.

I watched as Mr. Sir grabbed a pair of boots and chucked them onto the floor. "Undress," he muttered, obviously flustered as the fact of me being a girl finally sunk in.

I crinkled my nose, this time not to bask in the glow of an awesome name. Mr. Sir ripped my backpack from my shoulder and threw it to the orange cow.

He threw me a folded up pair of ugly in orange form, and launched into another informative speech:

"You get two sets of clothes; one for work," he tossed me another, "And one for relaxation. That's three days, your work clothes will be washed and your second set becomes your work clothes. That clear?" He said as he motioned for the orange cow to turn around so he wouldn't stare at my womaness in it's naked glory.

I peeled off my jacket leaving me in my white, and fairly see through, tank top and shorts. I quickly glanced up to make sure no one was perving, and I unbuttoned my shorts and shimmied those off. I pulled up the jumpsuit, but didn't bother to put it on correctly and settled for tying the arms around my waste.  
I put the boots on, half expecting them to be to big. They were a bit snug, to be honest. But hey, if you've got man-hands, you've gotta have matching man-feet, am I right?

"Clear as mud, Mr. Sir." I said, reputting my hair up into a ponytail.

"What'd I say about wise-crackin', girl?" He grunted, turning around to face me. I shrugged, not caring enough to answer. It seemed to be a rhetorical question anyway.

"You are to dig one hole each day," he said, holding up a grubby finger.  
"Five foot deep, five foot in diameter." he was handed a shovel. "This beauty here is your measuring stick. The longer it takes you to dig, the longer you'd be out in the hot sun."  
I nodded attentively. "Fair enough." He gave me a look. "Fair enough... Mr. Sir."  
He seemed content now.

"You need to keep alert for lizards.. and rattlesnakes," he said, sounding preoccupied.  
My eyebrows furrowed. "You're kidding."

"No, Miss Greenwood, I most certainly am not. Now, if you don't bother them, they won't bother you. Usually."

"Bein' bit by a rattler ain't the worst thing that could happen to ya, though. You won't die, usually. But you don't wanna get bit by a yella-spotted lizard. That is the worst thing." He leaned up against a desk and crossed his arms. "You will die. A slow and painful death. Always" He seemed pretty absorbed in his own words.

"Well, damn, Mr. Sir."

He was about to start up again, possibly to tell me about how this wasn't a girl scout camp (just a guess), when we heard the door violently swing open.

"Molly Greenwood?" I swung around. There was a tiny man with an enthusiastic look plastered on his face. He was only a few inches taller than me, so I didn't have to look up to look him in the eye, which was usually something I detested.  
His knee-high cotton socks complimented his sunscreen covered nose perfectly.

"You may have done some bad things, but that does not make you a bad person." He chanted, emphasizing by waving around a piece of paper.  
"I respect you, Molly."

My eyes lingered on the cotton. I pictured myself dousing him in gasoline, then striking a match and lighting him on fire. That wasn't the pyro inside me talking; it was the morally corupt part. Cotton combusts at 120 degrees Celsius, did ya know?

"Call me Mo." I said, playing along with his chipper attitude. He seemed vulnerable and I could easily sass him without getting a girl scout comment, I could tell. Mr. Sir looked amused.

"Well, Mo, welcome to Camp Green Lake. I'm Dr. Pendanski, your counselor." He said, shaking my hand.

Mr. Sir eyed us. "You start that touchy-feely crap, I'm outta here." he said, sounding fed up. I snorted. "I hear ya, man."

"Get her some towels," He said. "some shower tokens. Send her on her way." And with that, he left.

"You'll be in D Tent," Dr. Pendanski started as we walked out of the cabin. I was tailing him, work suits in hand, eyeing my surroundings. Dirt and boys. That was it.  
"D stands for Diligence. There's the mess hall, the rec room, and the showers." He rattled on, gesturing every once in a while.

"D also stands for Deluded. And Dumb." I said, matching the amount of enthusiasm he had in his voice.

"Oh come now, Mo," He said in a reprimanding tone. He 'aha!'d as we came pass the showering stations. "Right there are the showers," he said with a pointing finger. "There's only one temperature, and that's cold."

I nodded. "Alrighty then."

He pointed again. "And that's the Warden's cabin, over there." I glanced over at it. It was spiffy enough, considering our situation. There was a nice convertible parked in front of it, too, with two Orange Cows washing it, and what seemed to be a chimney-type thing.

Just the sight it made my eyebrow start twitching. I internally calculated the amount of time it'd take for me to ignite the faux curtains.

Dr. Pendanski knocked me out my thoughts. "That's the number one rule here at Camp Green Lake: Do NOT upset the Warden."

I nodded vigorously. I wasn't so sure about how that wasn't possible dealing with me. "I'll try, Doc, but respecting my elders isn't something my nun grandmother taught me." I said, voicing my thoughts in a more mouthy version.

He gave me a funny look that I couldn't name exactly.

Just then, three boys walked up; all three of them giving me 'the eyes'.

"Hey, mom." One of them said. He was the dude with the big glasses I made awkward eye contact with earlier! Well, shit.

I did laugh at the mom comment, though.

"Who's the chick," He added, nodding toward me. His voice was deep but smooth at the same time, if that made sense. I eyed him, looking anywhere but into his eyes. It's not like I would be able to, anyway. His glasses were coated in dust. How could he even see?

Dr. Pendanski put a hand on my shoulder and I gave him a gross look. "This," he said once he saw my gaze and removed his hand, "This is Molly."

"Mo." I said, not even bothering to elaborate. I could tell they already didn't care.

"So what's happenin' with old Barfbag?" The large, "thick-boned" Orange Cow said. His skin was a dark, deep shade of brown, but he had so much dirt plastered on his face it was as if it weren't that way at all.

Doc's face went slightly solemn "Oh, Lewis won't be returning. He's still in the hospital."  
I gave him an uneasy look. Did a lizard get him? I wondered.

"Mo," Doc announced. "Meet Rex, Alan, and Theodore." He said, listing off each of the cow's names.

"Huh." I said. They obviously didn't approve, as Not-Rex stepped up and said, "Yo my name is not Rex. It's X-Ray. And that's Squid, that's Armpit." He continued, nodding to each cow as he introduced them.

"And I'm Charlie Sheen," I said sarcastically. What the hell kind of jacked up names are they going on about? They can't be serious.

The middle one, Octopus or something, sneered at me, and I noticed the toothpick dangling from the corner of his mouth. He caught me staring and squirmed. To divert my attention I'm assuming, he looked toward Dr. Pendanski and said, "Him? He's Mom."

"That's actually brilliant," I said chuckling.

"Mom" gave me a disapproving glance. "They all have their little nicknames, but I prefer to use the names their parents gave them; the names society will recognise them by?" He said, looking back to the cows. It sounded like he was turning it into a life lesson, and I did not approve of that.

"Hey, if you're done giving me the grand tour of this fine, five star hotel, can we please go? My shoulder's starting to hurt." I said. He nodded briskly, "Oh, well yes. Theodore? Why don't you show Mo her cot?"

Not-Theodore glanced to Not-Rex, as if waiting for this notion to be approved. The hell? Not-Rex nodded to him, "Go 'head, Pit."

Lovely.


	2. Update?

ahhh, yes. Hello.

So I'm an asshole meaning I start shit that never gets officially ended. Oops.

I've gotten some positive feedback over the course of time about this little story and I'm really happy because this has never happened before. You know, the whole getting people to actually read a fic that you wrote other than your friends that don't really care. Which, I guess in retrospect isn't that big of a deal considering most of the Holes OC fanfics are terribly shitty... now I sound like even bigger of an asshole.

Basically what I meant to say the minute I started writing this was:

To the people who followed this story - thankyouthankyouthankyou. I will not give up on you, if you don't give up on moi. It just might take awhile.

To the people who have written me reviews - *kisses you* you rawk \m/

I don't wanna give you a low-quality story with regular updates. I'd much rather take all the time I need so it doesn't totally blow.

**SO I WILL NOT BE STOPPING THIS STORY. IT'S JUST GONNA TAKE AN ASSTON OF TIME FOR CHAPTER 2 TO BE PUT UP. IT'S HALF WAY DONE. YEAH, IT'S BEEN FOREVER I KNOW BUT I'M A FIFTEEN YEAR OLD GIRL. I HAVE OTHER THINGS IN MY LIFE. NOT REALLY. BYE.**


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